


exactly the same as it was

by richietosier (forestjoshua)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Infidelity, Insecure Richie Tozier, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Richie Tozier's Dad Bod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26799208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestjoshua/pseuds/richietosier
Summary: Eddie, Richie, and a moment of passion in a hotel room.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 104





	exactly the same as it was

After only one day in the city, Eddie doesn’t know how Richie has already managed to trash his hotel room.

Well, maybe ‘trash’ is a tad bit too harsh word here, but the room is definitely messy. Trashed in Eddie’s eyes, at least, Eddie thinks as he steps over Richie’s open suitcase lying in the middle of the room.

“You’re judging,” Richie states, following Eddie.

“How do you know that?” Eddie asks, parting the curtains to glance outside. He can see a young couple walking down the street: two girls holding hands, sharing an umbrella. Rain raps against the glass and Eddie lets the curtain cover it again. The digital clock on the bedside table says 10:46. Myra knows Eddie is coming home late, but how late is too late? Eddie hadn’t told her where he was going, but she has ceased to really care about Eddie’s comings and goings.

“I can see it from the way you stand. The way your shoulders are set,” Richie says, and Eddie turns around. Richie has taken a beer can from the minibar and is trying to open it, but his fingers keeps slipping.

“Oh, really?” says Eddie softly. “You know me that well?” _After over twenty years you can see it? You know how I think by just the way I am?_ The thought is so romantic Eddie tries not to really think about it.

Richie freezes. He gets the can to open with a hiss and looks at Eddie, spooked. “I mean,” Richie mumbles, but Eddie’s face breaks into a smile. He laughs.

“Of course,” Eddie mumbles, sitting down on the bed. He puts his hands in his lap and shakes his head.

“It’s the same,” says Richie, coming to sit next to Eddie.

“What is?” Eddie asks very quietly, very softly, lifting his curious eyes.

Richie’s lips stutter. “Your laugh,” he says, “It’s exactly the same as it was…” Richie takes a sip of the beer and makes a face. “This is gross,” he states and puts the can aside. Eddie remembers when they were fifteen and Richie had stolen a can of beer from his dad and they – Eddie, Richie, Stan, and Mike – had sat in a circle, taking sips. Eddie had thought it tasted like warm vomit. Richie had made the exact same disgusted face then as he had just a moment ago.

Eddie can’t stop staring at him. His mind plays a loop of, _it’s exactly the same as it was. It’s exactly the same as it was. It’s exactly the same as it was. It’s exactly the same as it was. It’s exactly the same-_

Eddie wants to ask, _what do you mean?_ Instead, his lips form a different question, because deep down, he already knows the answer to the question he had almost asked. “Richie, why don’t you write your own material? You’re the funniest person I know. I don’t think you need any ghostwriters. What happened?”

Richie lets out a groan and falls back, falls, falls, falls, hitting the mattress. Slowly, Eddie lies down next to him. They stare at the same spots on the ceiling and listen to the sounds echoing faintly from around them: chatter, scratch of furniture against the floor, sirens going off in the distance.

The silence feels comfortable. It kind of startles Eddie, how natural it feels. Eddie is used to Richie talking his ass off and it’s unusual for him to be silent, but there’s no place Eddie would rather be. He could lie there forever, just existing in the same place as Richie. He loosens his tie, listens to Richie’s breaths. He breathes so steadily Eddie has to glance at him to make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep.

“I, uh,” Richie says, voice low and rumbling, “I used to,” he finishes with a whisper.

Eddie makes a sound, urging him on.

“Before I was more well-known. That’s how I got noticed. They thought I had talent, or whatever you call it, but I was… Too weird, I guess.” He adds something more, something Eddie barely misses, “Too gay.”

A breath escapes from between Eddie’s lips. He turns his head to look at Richie, to get confirmation that he just didn’t make up that last part and finds Richie with his body already turned to Eddie. He isn’t looking at Eddie, though: his gaze is stuck in the void between them.

“Rich,” Eddie whispers.

“Just forget it,” whispers Richie back.

“I- That’s…” Eddie splutters, “I’m glad you told me. I’m glad you trust me. Can I ask-“

“Stan knows,” says Richie, sensing which question is about to fall from Eddie’s lips. “I told him, way back. And Bev knows, but she just guessed it. Or – perceived it. We haven’t really had the talk, but she knows I know and shit-”

“Okay,” Eddie interrupts. He brings his shaky finger up and places it on the inside of Richie’s wrist, giving his skin a tentative caress, soft and quiet like a whisper. “And now I know.”

“Yes,” Richie says, his eyes suddenly widening, looking at the spot where Eddie’s skin meets his. “Now you know.”

Eddie’s life flashes behind his eyes. A series of clues knit together and form a conclusion Eddie already knows. He had always been as into George Clooney movies as Myra. And there was that time he had attended his coworker’s bachelor party, at the strip club, and that had turned out to be one of the most uncomfortable nights of his life, almost as uncomfortable as his wedding night with Myra.

And.

_Before._ They way everyone had looked at Bev, Bill’s eyes turning droopy with admiration. Eddie had only had eyes for one person, and that was never Bev. But he had known how it was like to be attracted to a friend.

To be attracted to Richie.

To love Richie.

“ _Richie,”_ Eddie whispers. _I’m gay too._ He swallows the words. Better show than tell.

His fingers run up Richie’s arm and reach his face, settling against his cheek and Eddie thinks, _there was no pill my mom could feed me to make this go away, there was no pill I could feed_ myself. _This is a part of me that can’t be cut away, this beats in my heart and if my mother saw it and tried to take it away, in the end she didn’t succeed. This never went away. She would’ve had to kill me to make this go away._

Richie’s eyes are on Eddie’s face now, brown, and wide – the eyes Eddie had always been seeking to meet his.

_Is this a dream?_ Eddie’s mind suggests. Eddie used to sometimes wake up from dreams with heart beating wildly and no other recollection except for the desperate want in his chest.

Maybe it is a dream. Richie sits up with a gasp, sits on the edge of the bed and buries his fingers in his hair, elbows on his thighs.

“Richie,” Eddie whispers because he knows no other word. He inches closer, he, too, now sitting up, and presses his forehead onto Richie’s shoulder. Richie lets out a shuddering breath – he shivers against Eddie. “Shh,” Eddie shushes gently, “Let me.” He encircles Richie with his arms and runs his lips across Richie’s neck.

Eddie barely kisses him, afraid this will disappear from him, that Richie turns to mist and Eddie will be left with cold nothing. He lets his lips glide across Richie’s skin, across the coarse stubble that feels like something new. Merely the way it _feels_ makes Eddie’s insides twist in such a good way.

And then, his lips find Richie’s. His hand is in Richie’s hair now, tilting Richie’s face towards him very delicately, and their lips _crash._

Richie makes a noise Eddie’s ears have longed to hear and want never to hear again. It’s a broken noise, lustful and desperate and a little bit terrified, all at once.

Eddie doesn’t know how they rearrange their limbs as they slot onto the bed. Their heads knock together, Richie’s glasses pressing painfully against Eddie’s face, but Eddie lets out a laugh, nevertheless. Richie removes the glasses and then, his palm comes to rest on Eddie’s face, thumb stroking over the angry red scar. Eddie’s whole body jolts and he’s already hard against Richie’s thigh, something Richie definitely cannot leave unnoticed.

“Eds,” Richie says, voice hoarse. His lips glisten. Eddie runs his hands up and down Richie’s back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the shirt.

Eddie can’t resist him. He cranes his neck up to kiss Richie again, hot, open-mouthed kisses. In between them, Eddie manages to get his tie off and then, Richie’s fingers come to brush against the uppermost button of Eddie’s shirt.

“Eds,” he whispers again. His lips are now against Eddie’s neck and Eddie doesn’t care if he sucks his neck purple if it feels like _this._ He doesn’t care if Myra sees and screams about a mistress, he doesn’t care, because Richie Tozier is lying on top of him.

Eddie nods and Richie starts to unbutton his shirt, clumsily with one hand while the other still rests against Eddie’s face. Eddie sighs as Richie kisses down his chest, careful around the scar on Eddie’s side where the claw had struck, scratching a painful, deep gash, but nothing more. Eddie wouldn’t be here, if Richie hadn’t pushed him aside, but now is not the time to think about that.

Eddie quivers underneath Richie. His fingers want something to do, something to touch, _more._ So, he reaches for the hem of Richie’s shirt, but Richie’s hand comes to swat his away, accompanied by a laugh, a dismissive laugh that doesn’t sound quite right.

Richie tries to distract him with a kiss. “What?” Eddie asks against Richie’s lips, fingers brushing against the fabric of Richie’s shirt again.

“Dude,” Richie says, an odd choice of a word considering the position they’re in. His lips twitch when he looks down at Eddie, Eddie knowing he doesn’t quite see him without his glasses. His hand presses against Eddie’s stomach, the firm muscle, thumb stroking the skin just beneath Eddie’s navel back and forth.

Eddie gasps sharply, wondering if he ends up coming untouched in his pants.

“Don’t distract me,” Eddie hisses, when Richie’s fingers threaten to slip underneath his waistband.

“Eddie, you can’t be serious,” Richie says. His voice is humorous and grave at the same time and Eddie has to frown deeper at that. Richie stops, hands retracting, but he’s still straddling Eddie, eyes now closed.

“I’m very serious,” Eddie says, trying to go somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere where Richie’s ass isn’t pressing against his cock and where he isn’t about to explode any second.

“Eddie, you’re _this.”_ Richie gestures towards Eddie’s chest and stomach peeking from underneath the unbuttoned shirt. “And I’ve got love-handles,” Richie huffs self-consciously, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Eddie has nothing else to say, except, “They’re called love-handles for a reason.”

Richie looks down. His eyes glisten, he licks his lips and looks so uncertain it makes Eddie want to scream. But he lets Eddie slide his hand under his shirt and then, a small smile begins to curve his lips. _Better,_ Eddie thinks and marvels at the feel of Richie’s skin against his palm. He could touch Richie forever.

But when his fingers try to pry the shirt off of Richie again, Richie shakes his head.

“Alright,” Eddie whispers.

“Where were we?” Richie breathes out. His fingers undo the button of Eddie’s slacks, slide the zipper down and Eddie lies there and lets him do it, because he has entered heaven.

“Oh,” Eddie whispers when Richie’s lips ghost against his thighs, his stubble scratching in their wake. Up and down, kissing and sucking and biting, and Eddie is sure that by now, all the blood in his body is in his cock and his brain has turned to mush – Richie has finally done it. “Rich, if you don’t get your mouth on my cock this second- Ah!”

It’s better than any wet dream. Eddie has trouble to breathe, he knows he doesn’t fucking have asthma, but suddenly his lungs aren’t enough.

“Rich!” he groans and tries not to black out. He doesn’t know how he gets the words out, “Your tongue. _Your fucking tongue!”_

Richie stops, his lower lip still brushing against the head of Eddie’s cock. Eddie hears a high-pitched whine: it’s coming from Eddie’s throat. “You said something about my tongue?” Richie teases, pressing it to Eddie’s slit.

“ _Gosh,”_ Eddie breathes, burying his fingers into Richie’s hair, guiding Richie down and his cock is enveloped in his wet heat again, so deep it hits Richie’s throat, and-

Eddie comes with a shout, jerking, twisting Richie’s hair between his fingers until it’s over. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed about how quick it all goes down. Richie lifts his head; his face is flushed and shiny with a sheen of sweat and there’s a droplet of come on his lip and Eddie could stare at his face forever.

He gets Richie clumsily off, hand shoved deep into his pants, Richie gasping into his neck. When they’re done, they lie in silence again, Eddie playing with the soft baby hairs on the nape of Richie’s neck. He thinks how he should be finding all this sticky and weird and gross, but he doesn’t. He smiles. And wants more.

The digital clock shows that the time has crawled near 1AM. Richie is dozing off, curled into fetal position next to Eddie, wearing a t-shirt and clean underwear Eddie had insisted him to change into right away. Eddie, who’s naked, slides away from him and puts his clothes back on. No matter how hard he tries to smooth everything down, he looks disheveled.

Eddie kisses Richie’s forehead, careful not to wake him, and leaves. He hops into a cab and types out a message to Richie on his way home, telling him he had to leave, that Myra would lose her shit and that he would like to see Richie again, tomorrow, please.

_I need you._

Myra is sitting on the couch, illuminated by the blue light of the TV as Eddie comes home. Her eyes follow Eddie as he sneaks past her.

She doesn’t say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> this scene was a part of a longer fic i was working on a year ago. i was going through my wips and though i'm never going to finish the whole fic because i've just lost interest (and don't even remember where i was going with it which is a shame bc i had over 20k written... maybe i should start making outlines), i really liked this scene and wanted to share it. i gave it a little touch up and voila!


End file.
